


No More Miss Nice Girl

by Flexor



Category: World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flexor/pseuds/Flexor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaina Proudmoore has finally had enough of the Horde.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Miss Nice Girl

**Author's Note:**

> For my inaugural post to AO3, I'm doing something I never thought I would: Write about Jaina Proudmoore. There was this story about the sacking of Theramore based on the premise that the Humans thought disguising themselves as crocodiles and waiting by the wayside was good strategy. With added plotholes such as "Why didn't Jaina teleport Garrosh to the Moon, choosing instead to keep him with her?"
> 
> This is kind of an answer.

In a camp bed near the ravaged city of Theramore, Garrosh Hellscream slept. The day had gone well. All the Humans dead, fled, or transported into exile. It had been ridiculously easy. The Humans had been taken totally unawares. If all the coming battles would be this easy, Kalimdor would soon belong to the Horde. Then, the whole of Azeroth! He turned over, or at least tried. His eyes opened wide. Large muscles bulged, in vain. He could not move.

The woman looked down on him. A steady stream of purple light flowed from her hand to him. He struggled, tried to cry out.

"Don't bother," said Jaina. "I held back the Lich King with this spell, and you are nowhere near Arthas' weight class."

"I... have killed your soldiers. Destroyed your city. Plundered your treasure. Sent your ships scuttling away. And now you have come to kill me, like a miserable rogue?"

"Kill you? I am not going to kill you. I never wanted to kill you. Tell me Garrosh. How often have I held out the hand of peace to the Horde? How often have I counselled against war? Thrall understood that. Understanding things was never your strong point, was it?"

"Thrall leads the Horde no more." Garrosh grinned "You should know some of the stories told of you and Thrall by the fireside. You must have cried at his wedding."

Jaina smiled. "I am happy for Thrall. I wonder if Aggra will ever get him to call himself Go'el. It suits him much better. I don't think he is even part of the Horde anymore."

Nothing obvious changed on Jaina's face. Her dress was torn. Her hair was tossed about. Bruises were on her arms. Still, the look in her eyes changed.

"And that is good, because I am going to break it. I am done offering you peace. You have murdered the people of Theramore. My people. I am going to make your precious Horde tear itself to pieces. Already, the Tauren are disgusted with you. They know precisely who murdered Cairne Bloodhoof. You think the Goblins are your slaves, and so are the Trolls. The Trolls don't like living under the thumb of Orcish oppressors, who try to take their culture away from them."

Garrosh spat. "Their so-called 'culture' was to eat each other. They should thank us for putting a stop to that."

"And still, they never do, do they? I won't kill you, Garrosh. I am nowhere near as kindly disposed towards you. When you are left alone, all your soldiers dead, all your allies deserted, or turned against you, and the Horde is no more, I will be there, and I will hand you the knife to slit your own throat with."

Jaina bent down over Garrosh.

"It's already started. You didn't tell the Tauren to re-take Camp Taurajo, did you?"

Jaina Proudmoore raised herself up, and walked a few steps backwards. She raised her hand, and without a noise, a perfect circle appeared like a hole in the night. She turned round to step through, then looked over her shoulder, suddenly still as a statue. She sniffed the air.

"Can you smell fire?"


End file.
